


Fix You

by I_OfTheHawk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Sad, Slow Burn, like so slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:20:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22883185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_OfTheHawk/pseuds/I_OfTheHawk
Summary: All in all, Draco Malfoy is not adjusting after the war, but he’s trying his best. He’s made a friend in the most unlikely of place, and he has his mother. When a tragic accident happens Draco is pushed over the edge that he has been teetering on.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Fix You

* * *

“When you try you’re best but you don’t succeed  
When you get what you want but not what you need  
When you feel so tired but you can’t sleep  
Stuck in reverse”

  


* * *

A large object hit him square in the side of his face nearly throwing him off balance. Draco bit back a groan as his arm reached out to steady himself against the wall that was near him.

“Death Eater,” a voice hissed to his left. He looked up to see a lady with a bag of green apples clutched in her fist. He gaped at her for a moment before regaining his composure. _Get a hold of yourself_ , he scolded himself for the lapse.

“Aria, come on, let’s go.” Another woman stepped next to the lady—Aria he realized—and grabbed her hand. Aria seemed to be on the edge of tears, strands of her black hair had fallen across her face. 

“You killed my brother!” Draco’s eyes widened and finally fell out of his stupor and began walking away. “Go on and turn your back! _Coward!_ ” Aria continued to yell after him. He was suddenly grateful of the path he choose—devoid of any other witches or wizards as most of his travels were. 

“Aria, _let’s go_ ,” her friend insisted. 

“You should have all gone to Azkaban!” Draco squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he apparated back to his flat. He stood in his living room for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose, the three-year anniversary of the war was coming up and the tension that seemed to dissipate were soaring high again. 

“Draco?” A soft voice called from behind him, he quickly spun around. 

“Yes mother?” She appeared from the hallway a small smile curved her lips. He smiled back, abet forcefully. She seemed to always be at his flat and he never even thought about being bothered by it. The Malfoy Manor was a void, especially since his father had passed away over a year ago. 

“Darling, what’s wrong?” She walked up to him and cupped his cheek. He gave her another small smile and grabbed her hand bringing it down to his side. He gave it a light squeeze before pulling away.

“Nothing to worry over mother.” 

She gave him a pointed look, “a mother will always worry for her child,” she said before walking to the kitchen. “Come Draco, I made us some dinner.” He followed and sat down across from her at the small table. He was content living in his flat, it was small and cozy. Something the Manor was decidedly not. 

“Thank you, it looks delicious,” and it really did. Chicken, rice, and vegetables looked like she really invested the time to make the meal. But when the scent hit his nose, he wrinkled it. It did look amazing, but he didn’t have much of an appetite, not after earlier. He took a tentative bite and his mind drifted back to the witch he saw earlier. 

_“You killed my brother!” He could hear the shake in her breath. He searched his memory. Many people had died at His hands, and he couldn’t place this lady or who her brother was. Why couldn’t he remember? Didn’t the families that died deserve at least a memory?_

_“Aria, let’s go,” He friend tugged at her hand and looked at her friend with worry in her eyes. Why couldn’t he remember?_

“I wish you’d tell me what’s on your mind Draco.” He looked up from his mostly full plate and to his mother’s empty one. He smiled again at her. 

“I’ll clean up mother, why don’t you go rest?” She pursed her lips. “I’m fine mother, honestly.” He felt bad lying to her. She nodded and got up from the table before disappearing through the hallway. He suspected she went to his backyard. It was small, but he did his best to upkeep it and even had a small garden growing. It always felt peaceful out there.

His mind abruptly shifted back to Aria. He is certain that he did not personally killed her brother, he never personally killed anyone, not even when his family depended on him; however, he had no doubts that the brother was killed by a Death Eater. He rubbed his forearm, even alone he tried to keep it covered.

He should have gone to Azkaban for the part he had played. His and his family’s hands were certainly not anywhere near clean. Draco knew the only thing separating him from the Kiss had been Harry Potter. He released a breath and swept a hand over his face. He was grateful for Potter who had testified on his family’s behalf, but he had not a clue as to why though. He picked up his plate and put the food in a container, hoping he would feel like eating later. His family had much to atone for after the war and not a way to do it. His father is dead, and his mother put us a false smile everywhere she went. He was grateful for her—he truly was, he only had a handful of people left in his life and he couldn’t bare to lose any one of them.  


* * *

"You mustn’t let it get to you,” Hermione scolded, he scoffed.

“It’s not like I control the things my mind chooses to dwell on.”

She rolled her eyes, “Draco, that’s exactly what you need to work on.” 

He shook his head, “it’s not that easy ‘Moine, I can’t just shut these things off.” He was beginning to think it was a mistake telling her that he couldn’t keep his mind off Aria. Hermione reached over and squeezed his hand. He pulled his hand away and shook his head. How did he explain this so that she would understand? Aria’s borther was dead at the hands of people he associated with. People he looked up to. People he wanted to me like. He took a breath preparing to speak—

“Here’s your order,” a waitress stopped by their table and set Hermione’s food down and set another of Draco’s drinks—Pineapple ginger sparkler—in front of him. They both murmured their thanks. The waitress smiled at them and as soon as she left Hermione turned to Draco. 

“You didn’t order food?” 

He shrugged, “I’m not feeling very hungry at the moment.” 

She gave him a pointed look, “when’s the last time you ate?” He had the decency to look sheepish. 

“I ate dinner with my mother last night, it was quite good actually.” Hermione narrowed her eyes and picked up her sandwich. 

They always seemed to get together on Saturday afternoons for lunch. “Anyways, enough about me, how’s the Ministry training turning out? Everything you ever dreamed?” He teased, she laughed just as she finished a bite of her sandwich.

“It is going well actually. I do really enjoy it, and there’s so many things to learn!” He smiled softly, still wondering how she did not end up in Ravenclaw with her constant thirst for knowledge, but then again, she was the bravest person he knew. 

“That’s good, I’m happy for you ‘Moine,” he said, she beamed. He really wasn’t quite sure how their friendship took off. They saw each other not long after the Battle of Hogwarts, just after his family escaped Azkaban and his father was put on house arrest. He had been at a muggle place, much like the one they were at now. He found it easier to go to muggle places and avoid eyes when he bumped into her. He wasn’t sure who was more surprised to see each other. He fumbled for words and decided to apologize for his actions during the war—something he was truly sincere for and hoped she’d sense that. She seemed to understand his struggle and invited him to sit with her. They talked for hours and suddenly it became routine, seeing each other once a week at the least. He was grateful for her, he truly was. 

He’d occasionally talk to Pansy and Blaise who had moved to America not long after the War. He might’ve gone with them had it not been for his mother, but he was content here. Well, as well as he could be. He’d thought Pansy would die of shock when he told her of his newfound friendship. Although now he doesn’t keep up with them too much. Sometime over the last couple of years they lost contact, just the occasional holiday and birthday cards. 

“Where’s your head at Draco?” He was startled back to the present. 

“Just thinking, nothing to worry about ‘Moine.” He looked at her finished plate and quickly downed the rest of his drink. “I should probably get going.” Hermione crooked her eyebrow. 

“Because you have so many events going on that need your attention, I’m sure.” 

He smirked, “Oh, didn’t you know? I have a very busy schedule ahead for the day. I have the meeting with the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and then the appointment with the Head Auror. And of course, we can’t forget tea time with the Minister of Magic,” he jested. Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed. 

“Come on then,” she seemed to know that he was done for the day, “you best get started because that’s a lot you have on your plate.” She stood up and left some money on the table, Draco doing the same. They walked down the street and into an alleyway to get to the nearest apparition point. Once they got there Hermione gave him another small smile and grabbed onto Draco’s forearm. “You’ll tell me if you need anything Draco, yeah?”

“I will ‘Moine,” he reassured, “but you have nothing to worry about.” 

“Come over for dinner tonight, Ron’s making “something spectacular” as he put it.” Draco shook his head, Ron and he got along well enough nowadays, but with Potter it was always an awkward evening. They were civil of course, and he’d thanked Potter for his help with his family, still it was much too awkward for his taste. 

“Not tonight, I’m going to spend the evening with my mother,” he explained, stuffing his free hand in his pocket, “maybe some other time.”

“Okay, but the invitation is open for you and Narcissa if you change your mind.” He smiled and gave his thanks. He stepped back and pulled out his hand, just before he apparated Hermione spoke again, “Oh! I nearly forgot, Ron and I are going on a bit of a trip just to get away from it all, we’ll only be gone for a week or so, but I won’t make it for lunch next week.” He raised his eyebrows. He wouldn’t expect them to leave this close to the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, especially since Ron was an Auror now and in past years things have gotten hectic in some parts. He explained this to Hermione, but then again maybe that’s why they were leaving. 

“We just want to step aside this year. Harry hates us fussing over him and Charlie is coming down to be with George,” she shrugged, “we’re supposed to all get together and spend some time a little later on when things have calmed down.” He nodded, it sounded nice—to be able to get away from things. 

He hardly ever went to wizarding places anymore. Things were not as bad as they were just after the war but as soon as he showed his face he got green apples to his face or his name in the headlines. He frowned, yes, he’d like to get away for a bit and putting life on hold seemed like a rather pleasant idea.

“Draco?” He jerked his head up, damn, he really needs to stop wandering off like that.

“Yes, sorry. That seems very nice, I hope you two enjoy yourselves,” he told her. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nodded, “yeah, I’ll see you next time?”

“Of course, see you later Draco,” she pulled out her wand and apparated away. 

“Goodbye Hermione.”  


* * *

When Draco got back to his flat he was surprised to find it empty. He walked through the halls expecting to find his mother somewhere along the way but found nothing. He sighed and checked the time. She tended to spend a lot of time at St. Mungos these days, volunteering.

_“Something to fill the hours with dear,” Narcissa explained but Draco wrung his hands with worry._

_“Why at St. Mungos though, surely there are places with less…” he struggled to find the words he wanted, “people about?” Narcissa rolled her eyes, “Darling, we must get back into the world at some point in time.”_

Draco continued to aimlessly walk around his flat, not sure what to do. He settled on cleaning; he had ignored the dishes in the sink for long enough. He turned on his “tv”, a muggle contraption that Hermione insisted he try out. He found that he rather enjoyed it much to his surprise, and it was something that helped fill the silence that settled in his flat when he was alone. 

He shook his head trying to free himself of those thoughts. Anything he disliked about his life was his own fault. He had only himself to blame for the way his life turned out. _He made choices in his youth that could not be taken back_ , he thought as he cleaned another plate and set in on the rack before moving to the rest.

No, he couldn’t complain. He had a job, of course not anywhere near what field he truly wished to work in. He was lucky to be working with his background. Not many people would hire an ex-Death Eater but Ollivander was a nice wizard. He worked in the back of the shop, away from prying eyes and by himself most of the time. 

He dried his hands off and grabbed a book before settling down in his room. He might as well try to get some reading in with nothing else to do.

He always seemed to be by himself. He had his mother and Hermione, but he never seemed to be able to do anything other than lunch dates with Hermione. He tried to spend time with her friends and family, but it always seemed very awkward. He always felt like an outsider in their “group”. Which was to be expected. They didn’t exactly grow up the best of friends, which was also his own doing. 

“Draco? I’m back,” he glanced at his book. 

“I’m in my room, mother, I’ll be out in a moment,” he called out. He placed his bookmark on the page and closed his book. He got up from his bed and made his way to the living area. 

“Draco dear, I’m positively dead on my feet, I don’t think I’ll stay very long tonight."

“I’m sure mother, rest is very important,” he’s one to talk. 

Narcissa smiled, “would you like to play some chess dear?” He nodded and moved to grab the board. 

“How was lunch with Miss Granger?” Narcissa asked as she set up her side of the board. She separated two pawns who appeared to be bickering. 

“It was good, we had a nice time.” No matter how many times he and Hermione insisted, Narcissa didn’t call Hermione anything other than Miss Granger. He supposed the respect of the title was his mother’s own way of showing her apologies for during the war. 

Narcissa smiled, “that’s good dear, it’s nice that you were able to get out.” Draco huffed out a laugh. 

“You act as if I live like a hermit mother,” Narcissa chose to stay quiet, instead shooting Draco a look which he also chose to ignore. “Ron and her are going on a holiday.” He explained as he finished up setting his side of the board. 

“Oh! That’ll be nice for them,” he nodded along and took his first move, Narcissa following. They sat in silence for a few moments before returning to their conversation. 

“Yes, I think so too. Hermione’s been so busy and things have settled now, nothing is expected to come up. I believe they chose a right time for a holiday,” Narcissa smiled as she took one of his pieces. The knight grabbed the pawn and threw it across the board. 

“One does not usually expect the unexpected.” Narcissa teased, “Oh dear Draco, you’ve left another piece open,” Narcissa said off-handingly. 

“No, not usually, but still—the time seems right,” he slowly explained, trying to figure out his mother’s plan, they exchanged moves back and forth. 

“I’m just teasing darling,” she stared at the board for a moment before her eyes lit up, “check.” Draco blinked. That must’ve been the shortest game he ever played. 

He sighed, “I’m not sure if I’m actually up for chess tonight, I can clean though.” 

“No Draco, go on and read you book dear.” He stood in front of her. 

“I can clean up mother, you must have had a long day, you can rest.” He certainly hadn’t had a long day. 

“Nonsense darling go on now, I’ll clean up in here. It’s a wonder you still have no house-elves, I keep telling you Draco, you can have a few from the manor. Lord knows they’re dying of boredom anyways,” he shook his head. 

“I can manage without house-elves, I’ve gotten this far, and my flat isn’t nearly as large as the Manor.” He watched his mother begin to clean up the chess board mess and put it away. There had certainly been a lot of change these past years.  


* * *

He couldn’t focus, not one bit. He’d been staring at the same paragraph of his book for the better part of an hour. He looked over to his mother to find her contently knitting what seemed to be a shawl of some sorts. She was sitting comfortably her feet tucked under her on a chair with a far too tall back. He sighed and looked back to his book trying again to focus on the words in front of him.

_In the Native American community, some witches and wizards were accepted and even lauded within their tribes, gaining reputations for healing as medicine men, or outstanding hunters. However, others were stigmatized for their beliefs, often on the basis that they were possessed by malevolent spirits._

_The legend of the Native American ‘skin walker’ – an evil witch or wizard that can transform into an animal at will – has its basis in fact. A legend grew up around the Native American Animagi, that they had sacrificed close family members to gain their powers of transformation. In fact, the majority of Animagi assumed animal forms to escape persecution or to hunt for the tribe. Such derogatory rumors often originated with No-Maj medicine men, who were sometimes faking magical powers themselves, and fearful of exposure._

He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. If he could only focus. He looked up again to find his mother staring at him, he smiled sheepishly. “I can’t seem to focus on the words, I must be tired,” she raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t doubt that,” she tied off what she was knitting, Draco absentmindedly wondered if his guess was correct, maybe it was a large scarf? Narcissa got up from her perch and walked to Draco holding out her hand, “come.” He looked at her curiously and put his book down before taking her hand. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Nowhere far.” Now that’s rather ominous, his confusion grew as she walked them to his backyard and to the small patch of grass he was able to fit in. She sat down and dragged him down with her. She lied back but he remained seated. She glanced over his face, “lie back darling.” 

He huffed, “whatever for?” He asked even as he complied with her request. The grass tickled the back of his neck and he shifted uncomfortably. Narcissa continued to hold onto his hand. 

“To look at the stars Draco,” she breathed out, her eyes filling with awe and wonder, he could swear he could see the reflection of the stars in her eyes. Draco knew that the same look that always seemed to possess his mother when they looked at the stars. He finally let his eyes drift to the endless black sky, immediately he began picking out the constellation he could see and the individual stars he recognized. “The stars have always been important to the Black family,” her eyes never left the sky, even as he turned to stare at her. “They say the stars are—” 

“—Nearly as old as the Black family itself,” he finished. She finally turned her head to him and smiled.

“Yes, my darling. The stars are nearly as old as us.” She settled back down to stare once more into the sky and he followed suit.

“You were named after the great serpent Landon,” he had heard the story a countless number of times, but he made no move to stop her. “Landon was meant to guard the golden apple tree of the Hesperides, but the dragon was killed.” Narcissa frowned, “but now the great serpent is privileged to live forever in the night for his bravery and loyalty to fulfill his duties and he will never be forgotten.”

He grew up hearing stories upon stories about the different legends his family was named after. He let his mother continue on to all sorts of different stars—even those not associated with his family and he began to relax to the sound of her voice, and eventually he drifted off outside lying in the grass and listening to his mother, knowing he could never imagine a life without her.  


* * *

End of Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)


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